Triforce Shards

A collection of one-shots covering all things Zelda.

A.N: Theme requested by Bonnie Lass of the Outback. She wanted more Impa, specifically Chibi Impa and I was powerless to resist.

6. Innocence

Zelda's body hit the tree trunk behind her with a dull 'thunk' that made Impa wince. Inhaling sharply, the princess got to her feet and wiped the trickle of blood away from her mouth where she had bitten her lip on impact.

She's just a child…

The girl took a moment to contemplate the scarlet trail on her hand before her blue eyes narrowed in determination and she adopted her fighting stance.

"Zelda…"

"I'm fine," she retorted, irritated with her weakness. "I was lazy and I should have dodged that."

"You're tired, your body isn't used to this."

"I'm fine!"

Impa sighed. The changes that her charge had made in those few short months since their worlds were turned upside down were unbelievable. A few mornings after they had reached the safety of their obscure cottage hidden away near the southern border, Impa had been woken to the sight of the princess cutting off her beautiful blonde curls. The Sheikah had sprung to her feet, wide awake and fearful that the little girl she loved like her own was losing her mind. She had grabbed her shoulders and spun her around to face her, terrified for what she might see Zelda's eyes. Twin blue eyes met hers, as sound and clear as they had always been, staring at her quizzically as a pale hand lowered the knife she had been using to the table.

"I want to hide myself. That man's followers will be watching for a little blonde girl." Zelda had been unable to bring herself to speak Ganondorf's name since he had killed her father. "So I will become a little blonde boy."

And here they were, months later, and Zelda had tricked Impa into teaching her how to fight. Not that Zelda being able to defend herself was a bad idea, per se, but in giving the girl the ability to fight, Impa knew she was giving her the knowledge that would finally kill off the last piece of the girl's innocence.

Impa remembered the day that her childhood had truly died. She was eleven. Her father had taken her out on a misty grey morning, her hand in his, and pointed out a crowd of men in a tavern who were huddled over a table.

"These are bad men daughter, they plan to kill the king."

She remembered staring at them, the same hatred bubbling up in her chest that always rose whenever someone spoke of ill-deeds against the Royal Family. There was one man, a thin, bald man with a sharp chin and sunken, hollow looking eyes who caught her attention most profoundly. There was a scar running down from the tip of his right eyebrow to the corner of his mouth. He was sitting perfectly still, watching everything. Impa was grateful for the shadows.

"Who are you looking at, Impa?"

"The scarred man, sir."

"Good. He's the assassin. I want you to deal with him."

Impa remembered her heart skipping in fright for a moment, but she kept her features calm and followed her father to a table and drank the tea that he ordered for them both. They kept an uncomfortable silence until the assassin rose from the table and left the inn. Aware that her father's eyes were on her, Impa had followed him out quietly, sticking to the shadows just as she had been taught. Everything her father had ever told her was running through her head in an endless cycle:

Stick to the shadows…Never let an enemy hear you coming… Breathe through your nose… You're a girl-child, no one will expect you to hurt them. Use that to your advantage… The life of the Royal Family holds one hundred times the merit of yours…Failure will not be tolerated.

The man had been browsing a market stall, caught in a crowd of people, but Impa never took her eyes from him. Her throwing needles were hidden in her right hand beneath her cloak. In one instant, the man had turned around and his throat was perfectly exposed…

Impa had frozen -just for a second- and then she had thrown.

The needles hit their target.

The man fell silently into the crowd, blood bubbling over his lips, and Impa had fled back to the inn. Her father had been waiting, his face grim but his eyes proud. Impa had cried herself to sleep and given all her toys away the next day.

She had never wanted Zelda to have to follow in those footsteps.

"Impa, please…"

Zelda was staring at her, bright eyes still so wide and innocent even though she had seen more horrors in those past few months than any child should have to see in their lifetime. Defeated, Impa sighed.

"Alright then."